


Ways To Make You Sorry

by fictorium



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Prison Sex, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Snow Queen: Scene from Stable Boy with Regina and MM talking through the jail cell bars. Instead of Regina walking out after she grabs MM's face, it takes a decidedly different turn.</p><p>Anonymous asked: Snow Queen - Snow's never been able to resist Regina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways To Make You Sorry

***  
  
 _“My father keeps no prisoners”, Snow brags as she grabs the cool metal bars and swings around into the open cell. “No one in the land is angry or desperate enough to break our laws; they’re all happy.”  
  
  
As on so many other occasions, Regina bites her tongue. She doesn’t tell Snow of the castle’s true dungeons, many layers below them now, carved into the mountainside. Regina certainly doesn’t mention the terrifying night she spent there, left alone in the dark and damp by an angry King the first time she denied him his rights as a husband. Let Snow White believe her fairytales, written for and about trueborn princesses like her; Regina’s known the truth for longer than Snow has been alive.  
  
  
“We could be outside,” Regina says, weary and wishing for nightfall when she can retire to her own chambers. “Don’t you want the air on your pretty face, Snow?”  
  
  
“I don’t mind,” Snow says, her face suddenly quite solemn. “So long as I’m with you, dear Regina.”  
_   
  
***  
  
  
“Oh, I know,” Regina says, barely controlling the mockery in her words. To be at the final steps of a plan once more, to act after all these non-years of inaction and tolerance, makes her feel alive for the first time since Snow took a willing bite from that apple. “But you do deserve this.”  
  
  
It’s the fear that makes it so delicious. The peasants would talk (until the curse clouds rolled over them) of their brave new Queen and her handsome Prince, but Regina has always known the spoiled child, the girl whose tender heart bruises as easily as any peach. That girl will plead for mercy, without even knowing her crimes. It’s the refuge of the weak, to give in so easily. Regina hates her for that almost more than anything else.   
  
  
The caress of Snow’s face (enough with the stupid name, with the pretense that this is about anyone other than that cruel, careless girl from the field) is accidental, an old habit that Regina thought cast aside along with her tiaras and magic. The grip on Snow’s chin, however, is the most intentional thing she’s done in years. It’s thrilling, really, to watch that pale skin blanch further then turn an angry pink under the strength of Regina’s fingers.   
  
  
She could let go, then. Regina could shove Snow away and march out into the night, waiting for the morning and the slow, unstoppable march of justice, at long last. But something, perhaps the weight of memory, convinces Regina to hold on.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _“You’ve never acted like a mother to me,” Snow accuses over supper one evening. Regina drops her spoon at the sudden interruption to her thoughts. They’re dining alone, in the small dining room that overlooks the rose garden, since the King has traveled to sign a new Treaty with King George.  
  
  
“Whatever do you mean, dearest?” Regina asks, quirking her lips into what she hopes looks like a puzzled smile.   
  
  
“You’ve never treated me like a daughter,” Snow says, popping a strawberry into her mouth and letting her eyes flutter closed at the taste of. “No matter how much my father wished it.”  
  
  
“Sweetheart,” Regina feels the old flutter of panic, convinced her mother is somehow meddling again despite her banishment. “I hope you know that I would give anything to make you happy, to keep you safe.”  
  
  
“I’m not angry with you, Regina,” Snow explains, with that bored indifference of a girl approaching the end of her teenage years. Regina wonders what it must be like to reach that age without being married off, without being traded like cattle at the fair. Leopold talks sometimes of suitable princes, but his own jealous possession of Snow stops it from ever being more than idle fireside chatter. “In fact,” Snow continues. “I think it’s better that we’re friends, don’t you?”  
  
  
“I hope you count me as one of your closest friends,” Regina says, and any sincerity lies in the hope of preserving her plan; someday soon she will flee this prison, with King and Princess dead in her wake.   
  
  
“Oh,” Snow says, springing from her seat with the splash of the strawberry’s red juice still shining on her lips. “Of course I do,” she adds, wrapping her arms around Regina’s neck and pressing a kiss to her cheek.   
_   
  
***  
  
  
“Are you sorry?” Regina asks, her top lip curling in disgust. “You said you were truly sorry, but how can that be?”  
  
  
“I am!” Snow protests, trying to twist her chin out of Regina’s vise-like grip. “I meant what I said.”  
  
  
“What are you sorry for?” Regina demands. This is a risk she hasn’t dared to take, pressing on their patched-up memories and testing the strength of the curse. But tonight she is reckless; tonight there is blood in the water. “Tell me.”  
  
  
“I’m sorry for...” Snow scrunches up her face in confusion. “Henry!” She yelps in a moment of inspiration. “For you to be this angry at me, it has to be something I did to Henry, right?”  
  
  
“Guess again,” Regina says, finally releasing her grip.  
  
  
“I don’t know!” Snow wails, and Regina can see a decade of adolescent tantrums in the pink blotches on Snow’s face. Some things are never outgrown, it would seem. “But what will it take?” She demands, suddenly calm. In that moment Regina recognizes the woman who bested her, who evaded her every plan in one way or another.  
  
  
“For my forgiveness?” Regina asks, tapping her chin with one finger as she pretends to consider. “That depends: what are you willing to offer?”  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _“I couldn’t sleep,” Snow says as the thunder rolls overhead, the fork of lightning bathing Regina’s bedchamber in shifting shadows for a moment. She fumbles for the candle by her bed, lights it with sleep-dulled fingers.  
  
  
“Whyever not?” Regina asks, with a wry smile at the weather crashing around them. Ever since she’s had some leverage with Leopold (his disinterest in her causing a minor scandal with one of the serving girls) Regina has insisted on the highest tower being handed over as her domain alone. It suits her, to have only the birds for company, and an unspoiled view of her beloved apple tree.   
  
  
“May I?” Snow asks, but she’s already pulling the heavy sheets aside and scrambling in beside Regina. Her legs are longer now, and when she lays her head on a pillow, Regina is startled at how adult the face looking back at her is.  
  
  
“Aren’t you too old for this?” Regina asks, her civil mask slipping from the late hour and the nervousness that ever storm provokes in her. It makes her remember the stables, the nights Daniel would go without sleep to calm their panicking horses. She would slip out to join him, trading kisses on the bales of hay until the sun rose.  
  
  
“I’m not asking for a bedtime story and warm milk,” Snow says, snuggling closer to Regina, who tries desperately not to stiffen up at the unexpected contact. She’s become used to sleeping alone.   
  
  
“You should have a husband, soon, to protect you on nights like these,” Regina says, commanding rigid fingers to stroke Snow’s unbound hair. “Won’t that be lovely?”  
  
  
“I see no husband in my future,” Snow says in a strangled sounding voice. “I have learned, these past few years, all the things a husband is not.”  
  
  
“Your father and I love each other dearly,” Regina sighs.   
  
  
“Stop lying to me,” Snow says firmly, running her thumb over Regina’s bottom lip. “I don’t like it when you lie to me.”  
  
  
Regina opens her mouth to deny the charge, the rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, but the sound is swallowed by the warm and sudden pressure of Snow’s lips against her own.  
_   
  
***  
  
  
Snow can’t put it into words, of course, but her tongue-tied, flustered, not saying it is all the invitation Regina needs. The keys are not very securely stored in the drawer of one of the desks, and Regina finds the one she needs on only the third attempt. The whole time, Snow watches, fingers wrapped around the bars with white-knuckled determination.  
  
  
Regina dangles the key she requires between thumb and forefinger, considering her options. It would be more appealing, perhaps, if Snow were dressed in something other than these Mary Margaret pastels, ill-fitting and frumpy in the way of the old world. Regina wrinkles her nose in distaste, wishing she could simply wave the offending garments away with magic.  
  
  
“Well?” she demands. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
  
“I--I...” Snow stammers, but her hands are already moving towards that top button. Muscle memory, Regina supposes. “Do you want me to--?”  
  
  
“What makes you think I’m interested?” Regina asks, tilting her head as she asks the question. She watches Snow’s fingers freeze, the conflict playing out over her face, and then the decision made (swallowing hard) to continue.  
  
  
“I think it might... make you happy?” Snow ventures, exposing inch by inch of creamy skin to Regina’s purposefully indifferent gaze. “I just don’t want you to hate me anymore.”  
  
  
“No more talking.”   
  
Regina shrugs off her blazer and drapes it over the nearest chair. By the time she crosses the room and unlocks the cell, both Snow’s cardigan and blouse are already on the floor.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _“Snow!” Regina cries out, pushing blindly at the young woman. In the tangle of limbs and sheets, Regina almost lands on the cold, stone floor. “What were you thinking?”  
  
  
“I love you, Regina,” Snow says, quite calmly. In the flickering candlelight, Regina grabs Snow by the pointiest part of her chin and searches her face for signs of enchantment, even possession. If this is some trick (especially on the part of her mother) Regina will not fall for it.  
  
  
“And you know how I care for you,” Regina says warily. “This is too much, dear.”  
  
  
“I think it’s my fault Daniel ran away, isn’t it?” Snow asks, with that wholesome face of sorrow that makes Regina choke on her own breath. How dare Snow White pity her? “And my father is so busy, you always seem so lonely.”  
  
  
Regina wants to laugh at the very idea, because she’s been lonely every day of her life but now when she most wants to be left alone, someone is trying to force their way into her solitude.   
  
  
“I’m not lonely,” Regina lies. “I have you, and the ladies at court, and my own dear father.”  
  
  
“Regina, please,” Snow begs, taking Regina’s hands in her hot, grasping fingers. “You’re just so sad and I want to make you happy.”  
  
  
“You think this--what you’re doing now--will make me happy?” Regina hears the scorn in her voice, feels the cutting words lining up to break Snow’s spirit, as though handed down directly from Cora herself. But then Regina sees the greater victory: the ruining of Leopold’s precious daughter, and a chance to be the one claiming, instead of the one claimed.  
  
  
“Oh, my dear Snow,” Regina sighs, and she catches the spark of hope in Snow’s eyes at the softer words. “I’m not enough for you to waste your affection on.”  
  
  
“No, Regina,” Snow corrects earnestly, moving closer again, her mouth just an inch from Regina’s own. “You’re still the fairest of them all.”  
  
  
This time, when they kiss, Regina is the one to begin it.  
_   
  
***  
  
  
“Regina,” Snow whimpers, fumbling with her bra for far too long, but finally managing to undo it. “Is this what you want?”  
  
  
“I said no talking,” Regina repeats, stepping forward with no small hint of malice. The air in the cell is cool against her now bare arms and she feels powerful once more, almost drunk on the lack of anything to stop her from taking exactly what she wants.   
  
  
“Where’s your precious David now, hmm?” Regina taunts, running the tip of her tongue over the sharp edge of her teeth. “Oh that’s right, he thinks you did it, doesn’t he? Uh uh,” she says, shaking her head to remind Snow she doesn’t get to speak. “Everyone turned their back on you. Even your...even Emma, your beloved friend couldn’t help you.”  
  
  
“Please,” Snow whispers, her pale eyes filling with tears again. Regina smirks as another one spills, just in time to splash over Regina’s fingers as she grabs Snow’s face again.  
  
  
“Move,” Regina instructs, steering Snow back against the bars. She hisses when the bare skin of her back makes contact with the cold metal, but doesn’t fight beyond an instinctive turning of her face.   
  
  
It takes no more than a second to detach the thin leather belt that’s cinched around her waist, and Regina delights in running the smooth end in a straight line from Snow’s throat to the waist of her pants and drawing a frightened gasp from the girl’s mouth.  
  
  
“Arms up,” Regina commands, frowning when Snow is slow to obey. She raises the belt in warning, and Snow clutches the bar directly above her head. Regina leans in close, hearing the quickened breathing and feeling the heat that radiates from Snow’s skin; she’s never been as cold as her namesake. The belt loops twice and three times around until Regina is satisfied. Snow can pull her wrists free if she’s particularly determined, but fear is on Regina’s side, a tried and trusted ally.  
  
  
“Well, Miss Blanchard,” Regina says, managing not to stumble over the name. “Let’s see just how sorry you are.” She reaches for the button at Snow’s waist, and smiles at the way Snow’s breath hitches in anticipation.  
  
  
***  
  
  
 _Enthusiasm, in the end, goes a long way.  
  
  
Snow is untiring in her clumsy attempts to please Regina, almost tearing the Queen’s silk nightgown in her bid to get Regina naked and sprawled out beneath her. Snow is wild with what may be lust, Regina thinks, judging by the manic glint in her eye and the loose strands of hair that fall all around her face. Regina is so used to their formal styles for court that it stirs something in her to see the young woman undone like this, to imagine the same wildness spreading across her own features.  
  
  
“Slow down,” Regina whispers as Snow kisses her neck. “You’re not some wild woman of the forest, are you, Snow?”  
  
  
“I think I might be,” Snow says, with a soft laugh. “You’re beautiful, Regina. Truly beautiful.”  
  
  
“Hush,” Regina scolds, but something in the compliment seeps through, lights up the part of her she thought untouchable. She hates herself, desperately, but she clings to Snow’s warm body and sighs as the kisses rain down on her skin. How long since someone touched her with anything like affection? Snow may be a selfish and wilful person, the source of all Regina’s misery, but tonight she can take away some of the ache, make it all stop hurting for just a little while.   
  
  
When Snow’s fingers slip between Regina’s thighs, Regina is stunned at how wet she already is. Snow’s touch is not fumbling here, it’s sure and steady as she works two fingers back and forth, all the while pressing warm, wet kisses against Regina’s throat.  
  
  
“Is it good?” She asks, and Regina groans deep in her throat in response. “Am I good?” Snow persists, leaning on her elbow now to watch Regina as Snow presses her fingers harder and faster each time.  
  
  
Regina opens her mouth to say “yes”, to give in and let Snow have the satisfaction Regina wants so badly to deny her, but when Regina parts her lips all that comes out is the sobbing, shuddering cry of her climax.  
  
_   
***  
  
  
Distracted by her task of shoving the ugly, wine-colored pants over Snow’s hips, Regina doesn’t see the kiss coming. Snow’s lips are so soft, so sweetly pressed that Regina feels the time roll back in an instant; it enrages her.  
  
  
Lessons must be taught, Regina decides, and when she kisses back she threads the fingers of one hand through that cropped hair and pulls hard enough to bring tears to those pretty, questioning eyes. The kiss is a duel of tongues now, the flash of teeth and the taste of coffee and cinnamon. Regina hates cinnamon as much as she loves her apples, and when she bites down on Snow’s bottom lip that flavor is the detail that brings out Regina’s rougher streak. Let it be a warning, but Snow is whimpering already in pleasure.  
  
  
This is a terrible, terrible mistake but Regina can’t bring herself to stop. She grazes her knuckles over the thin cotton panties, smiling at the wetness already seeping through. In this world, as in the other, Snow’s reactions are predictable. The idea occurs to work her up and leave, let Emma Swan come in and tidy the mess with the blushing and averting eyes it would require, but Regina can feel the metallic taste of something like victory already; she’s going to break Snow apart and not care who puts her back together.  
  
  
The bared skin proves irresistible, and Regina lets her mouth roam freely, not caring about the bruises she’ll leave. She flashes teeth over Snow’s collarbone, ignoring the hiss it provokes, and when she reaches those achingly hard nipples, Regina is far from gentle. Still, Snow arches into the touch, crying out when Regina sucks harder, and moaning at every soothing lick in between. It’s almost too easy, the way Snow surrenders to her, twisting against the leather at her wrists to demand more from Regina.  
  
  
When Regina presses her thigh between Snow’s, Snow is quick to grind herself against it.  
  
  
“Can I touch you?” Snow asks, breathless and a little desperate. “Don’t you want me to?”  
  
  
Regina shakes her head, and withdraws the pressure of her leg.   
  
  
“This is not about that,” she says, tugging at the last remaining piece of fabric on Snow’s body, until her underwear falls around her ankles. The unmistakable scent of arousal clouds the air for a moment, and when Regina smiles she once again feels truly wicked.   
  
  
“Not such a good girl now, hmm?” Regina asks, running one finger through wet folds. “I didn’t even have to ask you nicely.”  
  
  
“It’s good,” Snow whispers, closing her eyes. “Gods, it’s good.”  
  
  
Regina freezes for a second at the plural, but Snow shifts her hips impatiently and it seems safe to continue.   
  
  
“I liked your hair longer,” Regina whispers, running the knuckles of her free hand down Snow’s face once more. She’s playing with fire here, because the curse is far from unbreakable, especially now. “You were so pretty.”  
  
  
She sinks two fingers inside Snow, the excited hitch in her breathing cutting off any response. It just takes a twist for Regina to have her thumb on that hard little bundle of nerves, setting up a rhythm of rubbing and thrusting that has Snow keening in moments. She’s tensed around Regina’s fingers already, but the wilful little bitch draws it out, biting down on her own lip to draw out the sensation for as long as possible. Even now, she can’t make a single thing easy for Regina.  
  
  
Snow comes with a cry, the ‘r’ of Regina’s name rolling on her tongue as her head drops back against the bars with a dull thud. Regina stills her hand then, before withdrawing, wiping her wet fingers over Snow’s abdomen like a bold brushstroke.   
  
  
“That was...” Snow breathes as Regina reaches over her head to undo the belt. There’s a moment of hesitation, before Regina loops it back around her waist. “Wait!” Snow protests, hands slipping instinctively to cover her nakedness. “What about you?”  
  
  
“Now why,” Regina asks, leaning in close to let the blow land. “Would I let something like you touch me?” She’s pointedly ignoring the pulling ache in her breasts, and the slickness between her own legs.  
  
  
“But... wait!” Snow says as Regina moves back towards the cell door. Snow seems torn between gathering her clothes and chasing after Regina; in the end, she chooses neither, frozen in place by her confusion. “Does this mean you accept my apology?”  
  
  
Regina tips her head back, and laughs.   
  
  
It takes a moment to collect herself, but Regina manages it. When she closes the cell door, locking it firmly, the only sound to be heard is the quiet sobbing of Snow White. And that, Regina decides, is exactly how she likes it.

 


End file.
